"Put that in your pocket," he said. And Kosmaroff obeyed.

"You know Miss Cahere, who was at the Europe?" asked Martin, suddenly, after a pause.

Kosmaroff smiled the queer smile that twisted his face all to one side.

"Yes, I know her."

"Give her that, or get it to her," said Martin.

"But--"

"Yes," said Martin, answering the unasked question, "I am badly hit, unless you can do something for me after we are past Thorn."

And his voice was still cheerful.

x.x.xVI

CAPTAIN CABLE SOILS HIS HANDS

Cartoner was preparing to leave St. Petersburg when he received a letter from Deulin. The Frenchman wrote from Cracow, and mentioned in a rather rambling letter that Wanda was staying with a relative in that ancient city. He also thought it probable that she would make a stay in England pending the settlement of certain family affairs.

"I suppose," wrote Deulin, "that you will soon be on your way home.

I think it likely we shall both be sent to Madrid before long. At all events, I hope we may meet somewhere. If you are pa.s.sing through Dantzic on your homeward journey, you will find your old friend Cable there."

This last sentence was partly disfigured by a peculiar-shaped blot.

The writer had evidently dropped his pen, all laden with ink, upon the letter as he wrote it. And Cartoner knew that this was the kernel, as it were, of this chatty epistle. He was bidden to make it convenient to go to Dantzic and to see Captain Cable there.

He arrived in Dantzic early in the morning, and did not go to a hotel.

He left his luggage at the station and walked down to the Lange Brucke, where the river steamers start for Neufahrwa.s.ser.

The boats ran every hour, and Cartoner had not long to wait. He was not pressed for time, however, on his homeward journey, as he was more or less his own master while travelling, and could break his journey at Dantzic quite as easily as at Berlin.

Neufahrwa.s.ser is slowly absorbing the commerce of Dantzic, and none but small vessels go up the river to the city now. Captain Cable was deeply versed in those by-paths of maritime knowledge which enable small vessels to hold their own in these days of monopoly.

Cartoner knew that he would find the _Minnie_ not in dock, but in one of the river anchorages, which are not only cheaper, but are more convenient for a vessel wanting to go to sea at short notice. And Captain Cable had a habit of going to sea at short notice.

Cartoner was not far wrong. For his own steamer pa.s.sed the _Minnie_ just above Neufahrwa.s.ser, where the river is broad and many vessels lie in mid-stream. The _Minnie_ was deeply laden and lay anch.o.r.ed bow and stern, with the rapid tide rustling round her chains. She was ready for sea. Cartoner could see that. But she flew no bluepeter nor heralded her departure, as some captains, and especially foreigners, love to do. It adds to their sense of importance, and this was a modern quality little cultivated by Captain Cable. Neither was his steam aggressively in evidence. The _Minnie_ did not catch the eye of the river-side idler, but conveyed the impression that she was a small, insignificant craft minding her own business, and would be much obliged if you would mind yours.

Cartoner had to walk back by the river-side and then take a boat from the steps opposite to the anchorage. He bade the boatman wait while he clambered on board. Captain Cable had been informed of the approach of a sh.o.r.e boat, and was standing squarely on his own iron main-deck when Cartoner put his leg across the rail.

"Come below," he said, without enthusiasm. "It wasn't you that I was expecting. I tell you that."

Cartoner followed the captain into the little, low cabin, which smelled of petroleum, as usual. The _Minnie_ was a hospitable ship, according to her facilities, and her skipper began by polishing a tumbler with a corner of the table-cloth. Then he indicated the vacant swing-back bench at the far side of the table, and sat down opposite to Cartoner himself.

"Was up the Baltic," he explained. "Pit props. Got a full cargo on board. Got an offer such as a poor sailorman couldn't afford to let slip to come to Dantzic and wait here till two gents came aboard. That's all I'm going to tell you."

"That's all I want to know," answered Cartoner.

"But, dammy, it's not all I want to know!" shouted Cable, suddenly, with a bang of his little, thick fist on the table. "I've been thinking since I lay here--been sleeping badly, and took the anchor watch meself--what I want to know is whether I'm to be treated gentlemanly!"

"In what way?" inquired Cartoner, gently. And the sound of his voice seemed to pacify the captain.

"Of course," he admitted, "I'm not a gentleman, I know that; but in seafaring things I'll be treated as such. Truth is, I'm afraid it's something to do with this news from St. Petersburg. And I don't take any bombmen on board my ship, and that's flat."

"I think I can a.s.sure you on that point," said Cartoner. "n.o.body who had to do with the a.s.sa.s.sination of the Czar is likely to be in Dantzic. But I do not know whom you are to take on board here."

"May be as you can guess," suggested the captain.

"Yes, I think I can guess," admitted Cartoner, with his slow smile.

"But you won't tell me?"

"No. When do you expect them?"

"I'll answer that and ask you another," said Captain Cable, getting a yellow decanter from a locker beneath the table. "That's port--ship-chandler's port. I won't say it's got a bokay, mind."

For Captain Cable's hospitality was not showy or self-sufficient.

"I'll answer that and ask you another. I expected them last night.

They'll likely come down with the tide, soon after midnight to-night.

And now I'll ask you, what brought you aboard this ship, here in Dantzic River, Mr. Cartoner?"

"A letter from a Frenchman you know as well as I do--Paul Deulin. Like to read it?"

And Cartoner laid the letter before Captain Cable, who smiled contemptuously. He knew what was expected of a gentleman better than even to glance at it as it lay before him in its envelope.

"No, I wouldn't," he answered. He scratched his head reflectively, and looked beneath his bushy brows at Cartoner as if he expected the ship-chandler's port to have an immediate effect of some sort.

"Got your luggage in the boat alongside?" he asked, at length.

"No. It's at the station."

"Then let me send a hand ash.o.r.e for it. Got three Germans furard. You'll come aboard and see this thing through, I hope."

"Thank you," answered Cartoner. He handed Captain Cable the ticket for his luggage.

"Mate's receipt?" inquired the captain.

And Cartoner nodded. The captain pushed the decanter towards his guest as he rose to go and give the necessary orders.

"No stint of the wine," he said, and went out on deck.

When he came back he laid the whole question aside, and devoted himself to the entertainment of his guest. They both slept in the afternoon. For the captain had been up all night, and fully expected to see no bed the following night.

"If they come down with the tide we'll go to sea on the same ebb," he said, as he lay down on his state-room locker and composed himself to sleep.